


Snow and Other Gentle Things

by RamaThorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Fluff, Flying, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Illustrated, Kisses, M/M, Pining, Quidditch, Snowball Fight, seriously so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamaThorn/pseuds/RamaThorn
Summary: It is Christmas eve at Hogwarts, Harry likes flying and Draco likes snow. Who knew these things can coexist so nicely.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 239
Collections: A Very Drarry Secret Santa 2019





	Snow and Other Gentle Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iRavenish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iRavenish/gifts).



> This fic was written as a present for the Secret Santa with all my fellow drarry Discord folks! I love you all a lot, wanted to say my thanks (for the thousandth time) to Lily for hosting it and for helping me with finding a beta! Randoyoyo, thank you for being an amazing and patient beta even during the holidays (I was smiling so hard at the sweet comments you made along with the corrections)! <3 Hope you have an amazing Christmas!  
> My recipient, Domi iRavenish, this is for you, you're an absolute sweetheart and amazing human being, I wish you all the luck and happiness in the upcoming year:)

The morning promised a clear, sunny day and Harry couldn’t wait to go out. He kept the enthusiasm to himself with some effort. Although he had his suspicions about his traitorous leg that felt like bouncing from time to time. At some point of the early afternoon, clouds hid the sun, heavy and grey but that wasn’t enough to reduce Harry’s determination.

He looked out of the window for god knows which time and that was when he saw the first fluffy snowflakes floating gently from the sky. It was the first snow in a while. He didn’t mind some if it wasn’t bad, a little snow would be even better: there hardly would be anyone at the Pitch. Harry couldn’t suppress a quick grin.

“Mate, what’s up with you?” Ron whispered into Harry’s right ear causing him to startle.

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, turning his head down at his forgotten parchment with hardly any notes on it. “It’s snowing.”

“Mhm,” agreed Ron, glancing out of the window as well. Harry tried to listen to Professor Binns.

As soon as the lecture ended, Harry was quick on his way to the Pitch. Ron tried to ask him where he was going, but Hermione was, apparently, very distracting with her animated speech about her homework results. Harry just smiled and waved at him, assuring he will be in the common room soon and really “I just want some fresh air”. Which wasn’t a lie. Very lame truth, maybe, but not a lie.

Harry just wanted to fly alone. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wouldn’t just say so to Ron. Maybe because Ron would go with him, and it was a fine concept but wasn’t something Harry wanted at the moment. As Harry was making his way through the castle in a quick pace, almost every student in his way made sure to greet him. He smiled back politely not changing the tempo.

Of course, he became more beloved by everyone than ever when he returned to Hogwarts. He knew what would happen but he didn’t. Students loved him (except some Slytherins, of course, but that was expected), even some teachers weren’t hiding their fondness very well. And soon Harry started to feel sick of it, of the constant attention and pressure. Nobody pushed him but there was always some whispering around, following like a cloud. And then he flew away from it.

At first, some tried to follow him and fly together, but it appeared to be very simple to use his Firebolt right and soon they got the message. Ron never tried to push him without an invitation and Harry wasn’t worrying much about the feelings of his most persistent fans.

Eighth years weren’t allowed to play Quidditch this year, it so Harry just developed a habit of flying by himself to clear his head.

When he emerged from the changing rooms with his beloved broom in hand, everything around was covered in the white blanket. This refreshed the previous layer of snow and made Harry’s eyes water because of the brightness. The Pitch was blissfully empty. Harry mounted and took off from the ground.

Snowflakes hit his face in quick, cold little bites and his glasses soon were covered in water drops. He slowed the broom a little and cast Impervius absentmindedly. The world became clearer and Harry took a second to look up at the sky. The usually invisible air was filled with snowflakes, lazily flowing towards the ground. All this air, waiting to be flown in. Harry smiled and aimed the Firebolt up, speeding in quick succession. A feeling similar to the one of falling tugged at his guts and then transformed into excitement. Harry was free to go in any direction he pleased, just turn the handle. That was familiar and dear to him, the only time when he really could let go of the concerns, fears and thoughts as a whole.

Harry’s mind became as peaceful as the quiet snowfall enveloping him, full of little things that didn’t make an impact and seemed to melt under his breath.

He saw Malfoy when he was preparing to land. Harry almost missed a small figure near the line of the forest, his eyes watering and nose numb from the cold. Snowflakes hitting his face only intensified and no longer seemed insignificant. There was no one around and Harry stopped abruptly some five feet above the ground when that was proven to be wrong. The figure was easy to miss in the constant shimmer of intensified snowfall. Harry immediately recognised the blond head (what the hell was he doing without a hat in this weather) and then noticed how strange the picture was. Malfoy stood with his face turned upwards to the sky and his palms (without gloves) open as well, arms bent at the elbows. Harry was some distance away and Malfoy was turned sideways to him but Harry could see his face clearly. Eyes closed, brows relaxed and mouth slightly opened, sharpness almost gone. Harry shivered, not entirely from the cold. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to see that — no one was — Malfoy seemed so unguarded and relaxed that Harry was not sure if it was Malfoy at all. No, it was him, Harry doubted he could mistake him for anyone, but he never saw this Malfoy. If not for the black coat he could easily blend into the snowy landscape, blond hair and everything. But he didn’t seem cold at all, he seemed strangely human and gentle…

Harry flinched and felt the urge to turn around and go for the castle before he got noticed. He remembered uneasily the last time he watched Malfoy when no one had been supposed to. He really really should just turn and fly away. Right now.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Malfoy shifted and a cloud of breath curled from his mouth, melting slowly in the air, weightless. Something strange constructed in Harry’s chest, heavy and sharp but sweet and vaguely familiar. He turned and flew a bit faster than was necessary.

***

Harry couldn’t help but search with his eyes for Malfoy everywhere. It was no surprise that lately he and Malfoy rarely crossed paths. Harry was constantly surrounded by someone (with or without his will) and Malfoy… Harry still couldn’t believe how quiet he was. Almost no Slytherins in their year returned to Hogwarts and those who did seemed to ignore Malfoy altogether. Harry never noticed it before. Of course, Malfoy himself didn’t seem approachable, he constantly scowled at nothing in particular and kept to himself. Harry was starting to doubt that he saw Malfoy after all.

After a couple of days at breakfast, Harry tried to wake up properly with the help of a cup of tea. His eyes were on the Slytherin table, as it later became his habit (again), where Malfoy just arrived. Harry lazily thought that it would be great to go flying again today and that Malfoy looked more tired than yesterday. He sipped the tea and glanced at Hermione and Ron who just sat at the table — Ron still yawning and with sleep dishevelled hair, Hermione as collected as always. She smiled at Harry.

“Good morning, isn’t it Harry?”

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table.

“Yeah.”

Ron shivered and started to add some sugar into the newly appeared teacup.

“Have you finished the essay for McGonagall? I realised it’s due today only when it was late,” Ron sent a sheepish smile to Hermione, who only huffed and sipped her tea.

“I’m nearly done,” he wrote it all already but he needed some excuse to disappear today at lunch break if he wanted to go flying.

“This essay is important, Harry, are you sure you will finish it in time? Do you need my notes?” Hermione seemed alarmed.

Harry waved his hand, “No-no, it’s really nothing, I know what to write and will do it at lunch break.”

He felt slightly sick of himself for lying about such small things to his friends just so he could then go and be alone for a bit. They would understand of course but he didn’t want for them to think he’s trying to get rid of them or anything. They already saw when he was disappearing without any excuse.

Hermione seemed satisfied and Ron quickly switched his attention to the breakfast that appeared on the table. Harry looked up to the enchanted ceiling just to find slow, fresh snowflakes shimmering from the grey clouds. It hadn’t been snowing since the last time Harry went flying. He glanced at Malfoy. And found him looking up as well, a strange expression on his face. Harry swallowed. Yeah, it was the same Malfoy he saw last time in the snow after all.

A strange nervousness was taking hold of Harry as the morning went by and the lunch break came nearer. It was the last days before the Christmas break so the classes were more or less relaxed, students were excited about the holidays and spending time talking with friends about their plans. But now Harry just thought about flying and definitely not about how Malfoy’s face looked that day under the snow.

It was just strange, Harry tried to assure himself, it was just unusual to see, that’s all it was. He looked at the clock nervously. Less than ten minutes, and then he would go to the Pitch and not at all expect Malfoy to be nearby. Harry shook his head, earning a strange look from Ron.

When they were dismissed, he reminded his friends about going to the Library and tried to look as relaxed as one could while being as nervous as possible. When he was making his way through the castle, Harry cursed himself mentally. What was wrong with him? That was ridiculous, to be so…

Someone slammed into his shoulder after he turned the corner and Harry stumbled back in his way. When he regained his balance he looked up. And blinked a few times at Malfoy, who was blinking in return, looking surprised, but it didn’t last long and after a second a familiar scowl was in place. Harry almost sighed.

“Look where you’re going, Potter,” Malfoy said, raising his nose a little.

Harry couldn’t find in himself the want to bite back as he always did. And it was the first time he and Malfoy spoke in months, he didn’t want it to be the usual snarky remarks that didn’t mean anything anymore.

“Sorry,” Harry almost smiled at how Malfoy seemed to lose all the spite in favour of surprise. Then he frowned and seemed to collect himself again.

“Yeah, you better be,” he said, wrinkling his nose with distaste, “my shoulder hurts.”

Harry felt an urge to smile and instead rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t know you’re such a gentle thing.”

Malfoy glared at him, although the effect was slightly ruined by the rising colour on his cheeks. Harry tilted his head and the recent memory flashed through his head, the one of Malfoy with closed eyes and raised palms towards the snow. He supposed that Malfoy, in fact, really did seem gentle.

“Whatever,” this Malfoy mumbled, looking past Harry, ending the short exchange here. Then he looked back from where he came with a brief uncertainty crossing his face.

Harry realised that this corridor led straight to the Pitch. Did Malfoy come there and then change his mind? There was no one in sight, everyone was in the Great Hall at lunch. Malfoy gave him one last glance and made a couple of steps past Harry.

“Wanna go flying?” Harry heard the words and only then realised he had said them. Oh fuck, why would he say that? He looked at the floor wishing he could take it back. Malfoy was standing still somewhere to Harry’s right.

“What?” He asked quietly and Harry turned his head to look at him because he expected something more cruel and snarky.

Malfoy was looking at him strangely. Harry couldn’t decide what the expression was and hurried to fix his stupid out of nowhere suggestion.

“I meant— Er, you know, I fly, sometimes I mean, not in general,” what was he doing fucking hell, “and, you know, McGonagall said we aren’t playing Quidditch this year and— It helps me to clear my head sometimes. I mean, when was the last time you flew on a broom?”

Harry felt the heat on his cheeks and god that was a disaster. Malfoy was looking at a loss during his speech but at the last question his pale eyes widened and the colour drained from his face. He stared at Harry for a couple of seconds. Harry cursed himself for talking at all and, anyway, what Malfoy was reacting so dramatically for? He didn’t say anything _that_ bad.

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He looked up the corridor and then again at Harry for a second and again forwards.

“Anothertime,” he mumbled a bit too fast and made another step past Harry, not looking at him.

“What?”

“Ask me another time,” Malfoy didn’t stop.

Harry’s heart slowed down only after he landed on the snow some fifteen minutes later. It was still snowing in the evening and he couldn’t stop watching the Slytherin table.

***

Harry went flying the very next day. It was Saturday, and by the early afternoon, he was restless and jittery. He wanted to find Malfoy again to ask him about anything really, he was bored out of his mind. Saturdays Ron and Hermione spent together at Hogsmeade, all eighth years were allowed to visit the village every weekend. At first, they suggested Harry go with them but it was clear they wanted to be together for a bit, so he always declined. Soon they stopped asking him.

He was glad for his best friends but now he threw the second book aside because he couldn’t concentrate. He sat back in the chair near the fireplace and looked out of the tall window of the Gryffindor tower. All he could see was the white sky. He sighed and got up. Harry was never the person of cosy reading anyway.

He supposed he should go flying. At the thought, an idea struck him. Harry almost cursed himself and went up the stairs to his dorm quickly.

After some digging in his trunk, he found an old piece of parchment and unfolded it.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” he said and touched it with the tip of his wand.

He searched the map for the name and almost laughed at how familiar that was. Malfoy wasn’t in the dungeons, nor was he in Library or the Great Hall. Harry’s heart quickened as he looked for the Pitch. And there it was, not really in the same place the day Harry saw Malfoy but near. And Malfoy was moving slowly, walking to nowhere in particular.

Harry got up quickly, hid the map and hurried out. His uniform was in the changing rooms (he asked Ginny, who was the captain of the team, for a place to keep them and she agreed). He broke into a slight jog when he was in the last couple of corridors. There weren’t a lot of people in the halls and that was good because Harry didn’t want to imagine how ridiculous he looked right now.

Finally, he reached the changing rooms and got into the uniform quickly. He grabbed the Firebolt and then hesitated before the door out on the Pitch. What was he doing? It was ridiculous, really, and stupid and uncalled for. He shook his head and sighed before opening the door and squinting and the light. After his eyes became accustomed to the white landscape he stepped out.

Cold air hit him square in the face and snowflakes seemed to become more savage than usual. The weather was becoming worse with each day and the layer of snow was almost coming to Harry’s shins. It was a good thing he could take off from it at any second. Which he did.

Some level of calmness finally took place from the familiar feeling of flying. Harry looked around for a figure but all he could see was snow. So he flew in the vague direction he saw Malfoy on the map. He took a little higher to see the ground better.

After a minute or so, Harry finally saw the figure. His stomach gave an excited surge as he lowered his broom further to Malfoy, who stood with his back to Harry.

His head wasn’t thrown back as the previous time and Harry couldn’t see his face which caused a bit of disappointment prickle at the back of his mind. Well, he always could fly a bit to the side without being noticed…

Malfoy turned around… and fell in the snow with his back first. Harry’s breath caught, but he thought he saw Malfoy’s eyes closed and he would say something at least if he saw him there, wouldn’t he? Wait, what was Malfoy doing in the snow?

It seemed, he was doing nothing at all. He just laid there and Harry couldn’t see his face. Was it some kind of a trap? Harry still held his breath, afraid to ruin the silence of the snow. After a handful of seconds of stillness, Harry lowered the broom some more.

Malfoy was laying in the snow with his hands thrown open. Harry vaguely thought that that must be cold as hell but Malfoy didn’t seem to think that. Snowflakes seemed to melt fast on his slightly pink cheeks, Harry even could see snow on his eyelashes if he could fly a bit nearer…

“Why are you here, Potter?”

Harry startled so badly he almost fell from his boom, pulling the handle up too fast. But he regained his balance fast and looked down at Malfoy, who was now sitting upright and staring at him without a bit of surprise. Harry felt his cheeks go hot.

“I— Er, I— that is,” he cleared his throat, having no idea what to say. So he stopped trying.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not so quiet on a broom as you think you are,” he said, unimpressed, “following me, are you?”

‘Again’ hung in the air but Harry was quite sure both of them heard it. He felt embarrassment crawl up his skin.

“No!” Yes. “I mean, I didn’t mean to!” He very much did. “Er— Listen, that wouldn’t happen again.”

Malfoy snorted, apparently amused at the sight of him, stuttering through apologies. Harry couldn’t entirely blame him.

“You didn’t answer, though,” Malfoy said. “Why are you here?”

How could he answer that? He didn’t know why. He couldn’t say that he just wanted to see Malfoy… Harry looked at the snow beneath the broom, there were deep tracks Malfoy left. For several seconds everything was quiet and Harry felt a searching look on his face but didn’t look up. Malfoy didn’t seem willing to break the silence first. Harry glanced at his legs in black trousers that were buried in snow.

“Aren’t you cold?” He blurted out, raising his gaze to Malfoy’s face.

He just scoffed seemingly letting the previous question go.

“I’m a wizard, Potter,” he rolled his eyes. “Do try and think sometimes.”

Harry didn’t know how to answer that. A prickle of irritation went through his stomach and he thought about biting something in response but then he noticed something. Even though Malfoy appeared annoyed as always, he seemed much softer than he usually would. His shoulders were relaxed and eyes clear, and he hadn’t stormed off yet for some reason. Harry tilted his head.

“You told me to ask another time if we could go flying,” Harry said slowly. “How about this time?”

Then Malfoy did something with the corner of his mouth, very subtle but Harry noticed. Was it a smile? Even if it was, Malfoy stood up and walked a bit closer.

“You _are_ flying.”

Harry just blinked at him.

“Yeah, but we aren’t, are we?”

Malfoy did smile at that, just with one corner of his mouth and so quickly Harry felt that he wasn’t supposed to notice.

“Hm, no, I don’t feel like it,” his voice was over the top bored.

Harry watched him go several steps further in the snow. It was beginning to darken as the evening was close and the snow intensified. Harry shivered from the cold. Maybe he should ask Hermione for good warming charms, the ones he knew weren’t that strong.

Then Malfoy turned to look at him again several feet away.

“Maybe another day.”

And he was gone.

***

Harry watched the map closely every time he had a minute. Of course, he tried not to let Ron notice to escape questions and that made it harder. But every time he saw Malfoy either heading to the Quidditch Pitch or already there, Harry would hurry there too if he could.

Malfoy never seemed surprised and they didn’t even talk sometimes. Malfoy asked him the third time Harry flew to him on the broom how Harry could know he was there every time.

“I have a magical map,” he answered honestly and Malfoy snorted.

“Sure,” he said and turned away to the forest.

Interesting thing was, Malfoy hadn’t come here when Harry was at the lessons once, even if Malfoy himself had a free period. But Harry didn’t ask.

The snowfall wasn’t bad, but it was dark, as they came here only after their lessons. Malfoy cast some charm on the snow so that they could sit on it without falling through. Harry’s Firebolt was at his right arm. It was rather awkward for him to always hover in place because Malfoy never took a broom and Harry didn’t ask again if they could fly. He was beginning to enjoy these short meetings even without flying. As it appeared, watching snow was rather calming.

The fourth time they met at the Pitch, the majority of students left for the holidays. Ron was telling him for the hundredth time that Harry was welcome at the Borrow, he was taking Hermione to spend the holidays there. But Harry wanted to stay at Hogwarts, help to repair some parts of the castle that were damaged still, to rest from people a bit because really “you know how it is lately, I just… I would love to go to the Burrow but maybe at some point in the holidays, okay?”

Ron just eyed him suspiciously and with some concern but nodded without complaint. Well, Harry really did want to rest from all the attention for a bit but also he wanted to stay because of Malfoy. At their last meeting, Harry asked him if he was going to leave for the holidays and Malfoy said no. When Harry asked why, he kept silent for a long time and then just said that he hated that house. Harry didn’t say anything.

Now he was hurrying outside (Ron and Hermione were nearly late to the Hogwarts Express since they took so long trying to persuade Harry to go). Harry didn’t look at the map, he simply knew Malfoy would be in the usual place. It was morning and gentle snow was falling from the painfully white sky. Perfect weather for Malfoy to come.

Harry didn’t bother to go for the broom and uniform as he was already in the coat, and really, he could retrieve all that later. When he came to the usual place, Malfoy wasn’t there. Had he not come yet? Harry frowned, he just now realised they never agreed on anything, Malfoy just simply was here every time Harry came and that was it. Harry looked around.

Then a snowball hit him in the back of the neck.

“You’re late,” said Malfoy’s bored voice.

Harry turned and scowled at him, wiping the cold snow away from his neck and shivering.

“No I’m not, you tosser,” he quickly ducked when another snowball came flying into his face. “Hey!”

He grabbed a handful of wet snow, made it into a messy ball, and threw at the git. It hit him right in the face.

“You—!” Malfoy sounded so shocked from an assault that Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

After some fighting, they finally settled in the snow, breathing hard and unable to keep smiles off their faces. Malfoy cast his warming charm at himself and then at Harry without a thought, not even looking at him, and the warm wave rolled through Harry. When Malfoy looked up in the snow there was a second wave that had nothing to do with warming charms.

There were snowflakes stuck in Malfoy’s pale eyelashes and his hair was a mess, cheeks flushed and a cloud of breath coiling from his mouth and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“You didn’t take your broom,” Malfoy said after a while.

Harry hummed in response. “Figured it wasn’t the day either.”

Malfoy snorted humourlessly, nodded and didn’t answer. After a minute Harry asked something he wanted for a while now.

“Why don’t you want to fly?” Malfoy looked at him sharply but Harry continued. “Not that I’m admitting anything but you were quite a trouble for me during a game, you know, I thought you liked flying.”

Malfoy tsked at him with a snort.

“Glad to hear that I was such a threat,” Harry glared at him. Then Malfoy looked forward again with a serious expression. “I did like flying. Quite a bit.”

“Now you don’t?” Harry asked.

Malfoy grimaced and kept quiet for a while. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it and Harry felt awkward for asking. He of all people should have to understand a person who didn’t want to talk about something personal, for god’s sake.

“Do you know why I like snow so much?” Malfoy asked suddenly.

Harry blinked at the question but didn’t have time to answer.

“It’s as far from the fire as possible,” Malfoy said and looked at Harry with calm grey eyes that seemed darker than usual.

When Harry caught up with the words and the meaning, he felt a sharp ping of sympathy and ache. The last time Malfoy went flying. Harry was an idiot.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Malfoy snorted.

“Don’t be, it’s pathetic of me really.” Harry could hear the bitterness in his voice but it was so far from the usual Malfoy bitterness Harry had to look at him again just to make sure.

“No, it’s not.”

Malfoy just smiled at him with the corner of his mouth but there was a deep sadness in his expression. That was so unusual to look at and Harry didn’t like it one bit. He wanted other unusual Draco Malfoy, the one who laughed without any other meaning except joy. So he scooped up some snow and went straight for the sad face.

“Hey! What the hell, Pott—!”

And then Harry threw himself at Malfoy, pinning him to the snow and hovering above. He had no idea why he’d done it but Malfoy was now so close and looking at him with a shocked and open expression, eyes wide and strange looking.

“It’s not pathetic, the way you feel. I know it sucks, believe me, I know,” he pushed at Malfoy’s shoulders a bit harder. “But you can’t dismiss it forever. Can’t hide from it.”

Malfoy was looking up at him the weirdest way, painfully open but Harry still couldn’t decide what it meant. After a handful of seconds, he started to become more aware of how close they were. Harry moved to let go but Malfoy gripped his wrists.

“I was watching you first,” then he moved forwards and Harry felt a warm press of lips to his mouth.

He gasped in disbelief. Malfoy licked gently at his lower lip and Harry closed his eyes, his mind melting into the warmth and all the thoughts left in quick succession. He kissed back, Malfoy made a quiet desperate sound and the kiss deepened, cold hands cupped Harry’s face, moving his closer. Something almost painful constructed in his chest, gripping his throat and making him moan.

_‘I was watching you first.’_

The kiss became more frantic and they lost any track of time, clinging to each other in the cold snow, only breaking away to get some air and start again.

On Christmas morning, Harry went straight outside only to find Draco with a broom in hand and a golden snitch, smiling nervously. The snowfall had stopped a day ago and now the sun warmed their faces and the crisp cold air was clear and inviting. Malfoy was hesitant at first but after a while regained his usual confidence, smiling brighter than the white light of the snow under the morning sun. Harry let him win and Draco was so smug about it, Harry just had no choice but to kiss him. That was an amazing Christmas present if you ask Harry.

During the holidays the storm came and they were unable to get outside as much. At first, it was unfamiliar, to meet that way in the castle but soon they got used to it too. Harry asked McGonagall if Draco could help him work on the ruined corridor Harry was rebuilding. She gave him a curious look and said that they could help each other because Draco himself was working on the part of the castle. Harry could keep the serious face with some difficulty, all he wanted at that moment was to go find the prat and snog him senseless.

The holidays went by too quickly for Harry’s liking. The morning after everyone had returned he was restless at the Gryffindor table. They couldn’t meet the previous evening and Harry couldn’t wait to see Draco again, he got rather used to him during the holidays. Instead of constantly glancing at the entrance, Harry tried to concentrate on the story Ron was telling him about something featuring Percy and his new girlfriend. Hermione was looking at Harry curiously.

Somehow, Harry missed Draco walking in and nearly jumped when someone touched the back of his neck with cold fingers. He turned just to face an annoyed-looking Malfoy. Harry smiled to him because he knew the annoyance wasn’t a fraction real. Draco rolled his eyes at him and sat on the bench, not moving his hand away. Ron was silent. Hermione had a not-so-surprised and rather pleased look to her. Harry smiled sheepishly at them, hand going for Draco’s waist protectively at all the staring he got from everyone at the table.

“How’d _that_ came about?” Ginny was the first to ask with a hint of laughter.

Harry glanced at Draco uncertainly. He had no idea if he’s being honest, it just happened somehow. Draco was looking at him at a loss, his hand tightened around Harry’s nape. Harry turned to Ginny, smiling at her.

“Well, you know, the usual. I just like flying and he likes snow. We came around.”


End file.
